<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>I'll Make a Wolf Out of You by whenshewrites</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25760716">I'll Make a Wolf Out of You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites'>whenshewrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mulan (1998), Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Mulan (1998) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, BAMF Stiles, Beta Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Derek Hale is Not Amused, Disney crossover, Kanima Jackson Whittemore, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Peter Hale, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski is a Mess, The Hale Pack - Freeform, Warning: Gerard Argent, Warning: Kate Argent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:09:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,872</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25760716</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles was pretty sure lying to a bunch of werewolves was going to get him killed, but he was determined, dammit. And a little stubborn. There was no way he was getting caught.</p><p>OR</p><p>That one Mulan AU nobody asked for</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>180</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Born or bitten?”</p><p>Born or bitten, now wasn’t that a loaded question? Stiles stood on the outskirts of the werewolf camp and did his best not to fidget, a bastard of an annoying snake hidden underneath his shirt collar and Roscoe prancing nervously at his side. <em> Born or bitten? </em>There were a few different ways he could answer that wrong.</p><p>Stiles swallowed hard. “Bitten.”</p><p>“Rank?”</p><p>“Omega.”</p><p>“So, no pack,” the man said, and Stiles could see the judgment shining in his eyes. He bit down a sharp retort as the man continued. “What brought you here, omega?”</p><p>“The order.” <em> What else?  </em></p><p>The order. The order that one man or woman from each household would step forward and offer themselves for the bite. No one really dared argue. They all knew well enough to fear the gradual coming of Gerard Argent and his hunter army. Even the humans hid in their homes as the stories spread from town to town, village to village, carrying with them the rumors of a man determined to wipe the slate clean and start all over again.</p><p>Wipe it clean of everything. Human, not human. What did it matter when they lived side-by-side with the wolves?</p><p>
  <em> Born or bitten? </em>
</p><p>Stiles had never been a very good liar.</p><p>No, there was currently a bastard of a snake— a kanima, he called himself, but Stiles refused to acknowledge him as anything more than a pain in the ass— hidden underneath his collar, with Roscoe at his side nearly panicking from the number of nearby tents full of <em> werewolves. </em>And Stiles was pretty sure if he got caught, he’d be sent right back home as a disgrace. Or worse.</p><p>So much worse.</p><p>The werewolf searched him up and down, not looking impressed. Stiles swallowed hard and did his best not to flinch as the man leaned forward, inhaling deep. His eyes flickered gold and he looked at Stiles for another long moment before jerking his head.</p><p>“Go in.”</p><p>Things proceeded to go downhill from there.</p><p>So Stiles should probably start at the beginning, right? Because that would be so much easier. Of course, he kind of hated the beginning. Because he was a bit of a… how did one say ‘outcast’ in his town? Well, actually, that could probably sum it up. Stiles wasn’t the only human there, of course, but that didn’t help things. Sometimes he thought if his father didn’t exist to keep the peace, Stiles would have been thrown out a long time ago.</p><p>And then the werewolves had come.</p><p>Come with their fancy words and their flashing eyes. Every family was to offer up one person— one <em> sacrifice— </em>to the war. And Stiles had felt the stares from the rest of the town as those words were said. Because he was the only Stilinski left in his family line. Other than his father, at least. But Stiles wouldn’t be the one going to war, now would he? </p><p>Because between the two of them, who would bring home the real honor? Certainly not Stiles. He’d already almost lost it a couple dozen times in the past.</p><p><em> “You are my son,” </em> his father had said. As if Stiles wasn’t on his knees begging and his eyes weren’t full of tears. <em> “I will not lose you.” </em></p><p>But apparently Stiles losing his father didn’t matter. It was all about pride; it was all about proving himself. Though of course, the anointed ‘Sheriff’ of the town had already done that. But that didn’t matter. Stiles would be left with the family inheritance and of course, he’d ruin things within the first few months.</p><p>His father wouldn’t survive the bite; not with his heart. Stiles had known that from the beginning. He wouldn’t survive the bite and then things might as well already be over for their family.</p><p>Stiles had left Beacon Hills a week ago. And he was pretty sure he was walking toward his death.</p><p>But where had he been before that? Oh, yeah.</p><p>Things going downhill.</p><p>He was pretty sure he didn’t know what the hell he was doing. But, stumbling over his own feet while trying to dodge around other werewolves, Stiles didn’t mean to nearly run over a particularly feral looking beta. The blonde-haired girl gave him one golden-eyed look and Stiles continued to question all of his life choices, stumbling back with a nervous chuckle.</p><p>“Oh, uh. Hi?”</p><p>She tilted her head, searching up and down, and Stiles felt his throat turn dry. Even more so when she offered a sharp-toothed grin and stepped forward.</p><p>“Hey there, little wolf.”</p><p>Stiles’s throat constricted a little too tight. His mind flashed back to the nights after Deaton had sent Jackson— the rat bastard kanima— and Stiles had done his best to get his spark under control. He’d done his best to cover up his scent; to turn it into something other than human. Because if he could fool the wolves, he could keep himself human. And Stiles would do whatever it took to keep himself human.</p><p>His mother had been. His father was too.</p><p>And Stiles hated werewolves just a little bit. But he had his reasons for that.</p><p><em> “Don’t mess this up, Stilinski,” </em>was hissed in his ear and Stiles could have wrung Jackson’s neck. Because he’d never asked to be stuck with a lizard, alright? Deaton didn’t trust Stiles and his amazing spark skills, even though the druid had literally been the one to train him back in Beacon. So he sent this smug asshole as help and Stiles would rather drown himself in the nearest river.</p><p>Snapping back to the real world, Stiles realized the blonde-haired beta had tilted her head and he swallowed hard, smacking a hand down over his shoulder. He was pretty sure he got a sharp hiss in return.</p><p>“Am I hearing things, little wolf, or do you have a friend somewhere around here?”</p><p>“Uh, no,” Stiles said, taking another step back. “Because, um… werewolf hearing, am I right? Takes some time to get used to! You’re probably just hearing some random conversation from a couple of tents down or something.”</p><p>She searched him up and down, eyes sparking. Then another beta stepped at her side, laying a careful hand on her shoulder.</p><p>“Erica.”</p><p>Stiles didn’t know who looked more terrifying. This ‘Erica’ or the giant dark-skinned beta at her side. They could probably both rip his head off without even breaking a sweat. Though at least the other beta didn’t seem outwardly hostile.</p><p>“Okay,” Stiles said, still backing away. “I’m gonna go now.”</p><p>“Your scent smells weird, little wolf.”</p><p>Stiles tried to pretend like he hadn’t heard, turning on his heel and stumbling away. But then someone came out of another tent, catching his shoulder, and a curly-haired werewolf leaned in close, inhaling deep. Then he drew back with flashing eyes.</p><p>“She’s right. You don’t.”</p><p>Stiles squeaked, ducking away. Because he’d done his best, <em> he’d done his best, </em>to cover up whatever scents might be suspicious. But oh god, he wasn’t going to survive this. He was so not going to survive this.</p><p>Except suddenly, there was a whole different person— werewolf— <em> firm chest— </em>that he was bumping into. Stiles startled so hard he smacked the man across the face and his heart stopped as grey-green eyes turned bright red, a low growl filling the air.</p><p>“What the hell is going on here?”</p><p>Stiles winced and next to him, the other betas flashed their throats. Stiles did too, despite himself, and was pretty sure this man wasn’t a top superior. But then again, his whole demeanor was terrifying, so what did Stiles know?</p><p>“Alpha Hale,” Erica said quietly, and Stiles blinked in surprise.</p><p>“Hale?”</p><p>Red eyes fixed on him and Stiles nearly whimpered. He knew the name Hale; he knew that was one of the reasons they’d all been dragged into this mess in the first place. The Hale family. The last few survivors of the Argent fire.</p><p>Stiles quickly realized his place and dropped his eyes too. “Sorry.”</p><p>“Where is your Alpha?”</p><p>“Um.” Stiles knew he should have a good answer to that. But he did not have a good answer to that. He’d lied his ass off coming in here as an omega so that exempt him? But then Hale leaned closer, inhaling, and Stiles was pretty sure he was dead all over again. The man’s eyes sparked.</p><p>“I can’t find one on your scent.”</p><p>“Cause there isn’t one?”</p><p>If anything, Hale looked even more distasteful. “Omega.”</p><p>
  <em> Asshole. </em>
</p><p>But Stiles very wisely kept his mouth shut. He was pretty sure his heart was thudding like a war drum again in his chest and the bastard of a kanima who kept shifting underneath his shirt collar really wasn’t helping. And if Jackson even attempted to help out right now—</p><p>“Fine. Right now, you are under my charge,” Hale said, and it sounded like those words physically pained him. “Get your tent set up.”</p><p>Then the man was moving away and Stiles was staring dumbly at his back. He kept expecting the other ball to drop. For someone to call him out and then maybe all the werewolves would rip him apart. Or maybe he’d be forced to take the bite. Stiles didn’t know what was worse.</p><p>Fingers traced along the back of his neck and Stiles yelped, trying to pull away. But behind him, the blonde-haired beta only grinned.</p><p>“Relax, little wolf, you’re with our pack now. A little bit of scenting never hurt anyone.”</p><p>Stiles still shivered, watching her move away. The other two followed and Stiles waited until he was sure they were out of sight before scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck.</p><p>
  <em> “Nicely done, Stilinski. You’re a terrible werewolf.” </em>
</p><p>Stiles scowled. “Shut the hell up.”</p><p>
  <em> “Right. I just hope you can figure out how to fake claws and fangs by the time training comes around.” </em>
</p><p>Stiles hated the shudder than ran down his spine at that. Because honestly, he did too. Because if he couldn’t figure all of that out in time? Well, he might as well have given himself up in the first place. Stiles rubbed a hand over the back of his neck again and silently cursed.</p><p>He couldn’t mess this up. He couldn’t.</p><p>-</p><p>“So, nephew, how does it feel to be somewhat in charge?”</p><p>Derek growled, trying to ignore the man lounging in the back of his tent. His mind was still fixed on the amber-eyed omega who had nearly brained himself earlier and Derek could already see that kid having some serious control issues.</p><p>Not to mention his scent. It was unsettling.</p><p>It seemed wrong.</p><p>“Having a big fancy tent and a pack,” Peter continued, looking undeterred by Derek’s silence. “I’d expect you to be basking in it all. Even at the cost of which it came.”</p><p>“Shut up, uncle.”</p><p>“Oh, come on,” Peter said, pushing himself up. “That’s not what you want me to do.”</p><p>Derek glared at the floor for a long moment before lifting his eyes. Peter was smirking, already sure in his triumph. And sighing, Derek gave in. “Has Cora left yet?”</p><p>Peter tsked. Derek resisted the urge to rip his throat out. Again.</p><p>Cora was leaving with Deucalion for the frontlines and Derek hated himself for how terrified he was. More than anything, he wanted to trace his fingers over the back of her neck, pull her in close, and beg her not to leave. </p><p>But Derek couldn’t do that. He knew he couldn’t do that.</p><p>He was the reason Cora was leaving.</p><p>“She’s still here,” Peter said, no sadness or regret audible in his voice. But that was Peter, Derek tried to reason. He still felt like snarling at the man. “Though not for much longer, I assume.”</p><p>“You should’ve helped me stop her.”</p><p>“Cora is a big girl now, Derek. She can make her own decisions.”</p><p>Derek growled again, claws sinking into the palms of his hands as he clenched his fists tight. If he had the right to make his own decision, he wouldn’t be here at all. He’d be somewhere far away; to hell with the Argents and their bloodlust. But he was a werewolf. He’d been in the Argent crossfire before. And because of that, he was here.</p><p>Sometimes Derek thought it was the least he could do.</p><p>“She’ll take care of herself,” Peter continued. “And eventually, you’ll see her on the frontlines yourself. Once you’ve trained all of these reckless newly-bitten betas to fight, that is..”</p><p>Derek tried to ignore the man, he really did. But it didn’t seem like Peter ever stopped talking.</p><p>“Unless, of course, things don’t go well. And that would be quite the disgrace to the werewolf council, wouldn’t it? Especially after all of the hopes and expectations that have traveled from my late sister’s shoulders to your own.”</p><p>“Shut <em> up, </em>Peter.”</p><p>The anger coursing through Derek’s veins must have finally come out in his voice because Peter actually listened this time. Derek could <em> smell </em>his amusement though, and it took all of his willpower not to go stalking right back out of his tent. Because that’s what Peter wanted. And when Cora came to say her goodbyes, Derek wanted to be here.</p><p>Even if he knew she was just doing it out of formality. Derek wanted to be here.</p><p>“There’s another werewolf,” he said suddenly. “One with no pack.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>“He smells… off.”</p><p>“Why, Derek,” Peter said, pushing himself up. “Are you asking for my advice?”</p><p>“You are supposed to be an advisor.”</p><p>The other man chuckled, moving over to Derek’s side. Derek resisted the urge to snap and growl as Peter got much too close, fingers trailing over the back of his neck. He didn’t <em>want</em> Peter’s scent all over time. Chasing away Cora’s before she was even gone. </p><p>“Well?”</p><p>“A word of advice,” Peter said. “Stop taking pity on the weak ones.”</p><p>“The weak ones.”</p><p>“Reyes, Lahey, Boyd. McCall.”</p><p>“They’re not weak.”</p><p>“You asked for advice, nephew,” Peter said, pulling away. He moved toward the flap of the tent and Derek watched him silently, arms flooded over his chest. The man offered back one last smirk. “I’m just offering you my best.”</p><p>Derek didn’t say another word, glaring. And then Peter was gone.</p><p>The silence was suddenly much too heavy.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles had known ever since he grew up to be scrawny, clumsy, and all-around annoying that he wasn’t going to be much to the family name. His mom had always looked at him fondly when he told her that, saying it was part of his charm, but Stiles had never been so sure.</p><p>Then she had died when he was eleven and there were no more hopes for another child of Stilinski. Not unless his father remarried but Stiles had known from the moment his father took one look at the possible suitors and then turned away that was never going to happen.</p><p>So that dropped the responsibility onto Stiles’s shoulders. He thought maybe if he studied hard enough and proved that he could be what was needed without the glory that maybe, <em> maybe </em>he’d be enough. But then his tutor, Harris, had declared him unteachable, the war order had come to town, and Stiles realized that there wasn’t much of anything left for him in Beacon Hills.</p><p>His father had taken the letter, promising the werewolf holding it his presence. But silently from the sidelines, Stiles had known there was no way he was ever letting the man go.</p><p>His father hadn’t taken well to that suggestion.</p><p>
  <em> “You are my son. I will not lose you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “So, I’m just supposed to lose you, then? What happens if you don’t survive the bite? They’ll come back, you know.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “They will not if I tell them my son has a Spark. They know well enough the bite would kill you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “If you tell them I have a Spark, I’ll be dragged off and never allowed back in Beacon Hills again. And then I will never forgive you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Either way, Stiles, you are not going. And that’s my final word on the subject.” </em>
</p><p>Stiles sat in his tent, gazing at his hands, and tried to swallow his panic. Because yeah, he could just fess up. Take the damn bite. Just like the one that had been offered to his mother when she was on her deathbed. It’d kill him too, but this was going to end some way or another.</p><p>Jackson blinked lazily at him from his perch on Stiles’s bags and let out a small hiss.</p><p>“You’re bringing down the mood.”</p><p>“Shut up, snake face.”</p><p>“I would have rather that old Druid send someone else, you know,” Jackson said. Stiles would have rathered that too. “But I don’t plan on dying if you mess this up. Just so you know.”</p><p>“Maybe you should shut up then, so nobody comes in to see who I’m talking to.”</p><p>“There are stories of a dark Druid who was able to mask her hideous face with a human one, you know,” Jackson said, ignoring him. “Imagine if you could do that but with claws.”</p><p>Stiles clenched his jaw and looked sharply away. Because that would probably save him, yeah. Glowing eyes, a claw here and there. If he could change his entire face, he would do that, but Stiles had been suppressing his Spark for so long, he sometimes forgot about it. Deaton looked disappointed more often than not when Stiles went to him for help and he was pretty sure the man had sent Jackson just because he was less optimistic about all of this. Even more than Stiles was.</p><p>“Or,” Jackson drawled. “You could tell that grumpy Alpha that you have not and cannot take the bite and they’ll take you far from here. Far from the war. That nice little place where Sparks get to serve the first Alpha to choose them.”</p><p>Stiles glared back at him. He was pretty sure the kanima was smirking. “I hate you.”</p><p>“I’m just here to help.”</p><p>“Still hate you.”</p><p>But instead of answering, Jackson suddenly went snaking into Stiles’s bag. Stiles almost had a heart attack when someone came ducking into his tent and he scrambled to his feet, hands balling into fists at his sides. </p><p>For a moment, he was terrified it was one of the betas from earlier. But then, realizing it was just a floppy haired beta who looked very confused, Stiles relaxed a little bit. He eyed the boy nervously.</p><p>“Uh, can I help you?”</p><p>“I thought I heard voices in here.”</p><p>Stiles swallowed hard, shaking his head. He didn’t let his gaze flit to his bag, keeping it firmly on the boy’s face instead. Scott tilted his head and searched Stiles’s face, looking a little intrigued now.</p><p>“You look familiar.”</p><p>“I have one of those faces?”</p><p>The beta pressed his lips together and shrugged. But instead of leaving, he moved forward and settled down across from Stiles, legs crossed as he gazed around the tent. “You put this together much better than I did mine. I couldn’t figure out how to keep it from falling over. It’s kind of all over the place.”</p><p>“... Right.”</p><p>“Oh,” the beta said, turning his gaze back forward and smiling brightly. “I’m Scott! Newly bitten. This is all kind of cool, right?”</p><p>Stiles didn’t know if he’d say cool, exactly. But he just nodded, sitting back down too. “I’m Stiles.”</p><p>“Stiles?”</p><p>“It’s a nickname,” Stiles said “Stiles Stilinski. You couldn’t pronounce my real name if you tried.”</p><p>Except Scott’s eyes had suddenly rounded. Stiles didn’t think that was a good thing at all as the boy actually looked <em>excited. </em> And then a little bit confused. “Stilinski! Beacon Hills! <em> I’m </em>from Beacon Hills! Wait, you’re related to the ‘Sheriff’ from Beacon Hills?”</p><p>“That’s so stupid,” Stiles mumbled under his breath. But then Scott tilted his head and Stiles forced a small smile, nerves clogging his throat. “Uh, I mean, yeah. That’s me.”</p><p>“I thought he was supposed to be the one here?”</p><p>Stiles was pretty sure his heart skipped a beat. Which wasn’t good for anyone. “Nope, it’s all about the, uh, Stilinski name.”</p><p>Scott still looked confused. Stiles swallowed hard.</p><p>“My father wouldn’t survive the bite.”</p><p>“But you did.”</p><p>“I am here, aren’t I?”</p><p>Scott leaned forward, inhaling, and then moved back with golden eyes. Terror crashed over Stiles as the boy shook his head a few times, the color fading away. “You smell weird.”</p><p>“Uh, I haven’t showered in a few days?”</p><p>This was bad, this was so bad. Scott tilted his head and Stiles was pretty sure he wasn’t nearly as convincing as he wanted to be. <em> He smelled weird. </em>Everyone he’d come across had said that. Oh god, he was so going to get caught.</p><p>“No,” Scott said. “Not bad. Just… weird.”</p><p>Stiles just looked at him silently. Throat clogged, heart thudding against his chest. Then Scott’s eyes rounded.</p><p>“You’re not a werewolf!” </p><p>Stiles dove forward before he could think, tacking Scott to the ground and clapping two hands over the boy’s mouth. That was probably the worst idea ever because, uh, <em> werewolf, </em>but Scott just looked at him with wide eyes and Stiles glanced at his tent flap for a second before giving the beta a withering look. </p><p>“You’re going to get me caught.”</p><p>Scott gestured to the hands over his mouth. Slowly, Stiles drew them back.</p><p>Scott stared at him. “Why?”</p><p>“Why what?”</p><p>“Why didn’t you get the bite?”</p><p>Stiles set his jaw. Scott knowing about his lack of being a furry was one thing, Scott knowing anything else was another. The boy’s eyes widened a little more at his stony expression and he sat up slowly, holding up his hands. “Okay, okay. But you’re going to get caught.”</p><p>“No, I’m not.”</p><p>“I mean, I already—”</p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p>Scott closed his mouth and blinked at him. Stiles sighed, running a hand through his hair. His heart was pounding a little less, but Scott wasn’t wrong. This was already going terribly. But then suddenly, Scott’s face brightened.</p><p>“I know what to do!”</p><p>Stiles stared at him. Because he’d known this guy for less than ten minutes and he was pretty sure there was no way he’d ever trust somebody that much in ten minutes. But he couldn’t find any trace of deception in Scott’s face so slowly, he raised an eyebrow. Scott beamed.</p><p>“I mean yeah, you smell off, but not that much. You just need to smell more like a werewolf and I could totally lend you some clothes!”</p><p>“You’ll what now?”</p><p>“It’s scenting, you know?”</p><p>“Uh… no.”</p><p>Scott’s face fell a little and Stiles was pretty sure he didn’t want to hurt the feelings of the first ally he might have made. So quickly, he nodded. </p><p>“Okay, okay, fine. But you tell no one of this, understand?” Stiles really hoped he was more threatening than he sounded to himself, because this felt like more of a plea than anything else. “I can’t get the bite. I won’t. So you can’t tell <em> anyone.” </em></p><p>Slowly, Scott nodded. And Stiles was a little surprised to find he believed the beta.</p><p>He still tensed when the boy pushed himself up, but Scott only raised his hands again. Carefully, Stiles watched him duck out of the tent. His heart thudded like a war drum against his chest.</p><p>Jackson made a hissing laugh from his bag. “Nice one, Stilinski. I thought we’d last longer.”</p><p>“Shut up, slithers. I trust him.”</p><p>“That’s your first mistake. And now probably, your last.”</p><p>Stiles clenched his jaw, glancing back at the tent flap. It wasn’t, right? Surely it wasn’t. But the longer he sat there, the kanima’s words spinning through his head, the less certain he was. Then Stiles heard what could only be raised voices coming from outside and his heart plunged as he shoved himself to his feet, stumbling out into the daylight.</p><p>For the second time that day, Stiles rammed into a very sudden, very firm chest. He squawked and stumbled back and a hand caught him by the forearm, steadying him out. Still, Stiles’s fight or flight kicked in and he elbowed the guy in the stomach, sure Scott had sold him out.</p><p>None other than Alpha Hale doubled over, growling sharply. Stiles froze, his life flashing before his eyes, and then he carefully reached out, touching the were’s shoulder. Hale snarled in return and Stiles snatched his hand back away.</p><p>“Um… I’m so sorry?”</p><p>Hale drew himself up, eyes shining red, and yeah, maybe Stiles was dead. He could’ve sworn he caught a hint of fang. Except the man didn’t rip out his throat or catch him by the collar to drag him away, though he did glare like Stiles was nothing better than dirt underneath his shoes. “I want all newly bitten werewolves out of their tents and gathering in the middle of camp. That includes you, <em>omega.” </em></p><p>Stiles felt some of his fear slip at that. He raised his jaw, glaring back at the man, but then Hale growled again. And wasn’t meeting an Alpha’s eyes a challenge or something? Stiles quickly dropped his gaze, baring his throat, and the man stopped sounding like a feral wolf.</p><p>Then he shoved past Stiles and stalked away. And it took Stiles another few seconds to realize all of the shouting he'd heard was just the commotion of other werewolves leaving their tents.</p><p>“Stiles?”</p><p>He spun around to see a very confused looking Scott holding a stack of clothes. Stiles nearly melted in on himself and he could have hugged the boy. But instead, he took the clothes and ducked back into his tent, changing quickly.</p><p>He had to admit, maybe this plan wasn’t so bad. Maybe the one thing he needed was the scent of a werewolf to cover up his Spark’s attempt at one. And if he could just figure everything else out before something more went wrong—</p><p>“Well, Stilinski, maybe you’re not such a lost cause.”</p><p>Stiles shot Jackson a dark look before ducking back out of his tent. The tents around him were nearly empty and he made for the middle of camp, spotting Scott among those gathered. He started toward the boy before someone caught him by the scruff of his shirt. Yelping, Stiles pinwheeled backwards as the same blonde beta from earlier grinned at him.</p><p>“Hey, little wolf. Going somewhere?”</p><p>“I’ve got to—”</p><p>“Stick with those under your pack Alpha.”</p><p>Stiles glared at her, pulling away. “You’re not my pack. And Hale isn’t my Alpha.”</p><p>“Is that true?”</p><p>Stiles's heart stopped and he spun around. Then he froze, staring at said Alpha, and there was the ringing sound of laughter behind him. The rest of the wolves gathered made a line and Stiles swallowed hard, hating everything for a second. </p><p>Hale gave him a dark look, one eyebrow raised. Stiles offered up his best grin.</p><p>“Uh, and what I mean by that is… absolutely nothing. I didn’t mean anything by that. Pretend you never heard it! I’m more than happy to, uh… You know what? Nevermind. So, werewolf stuff, huh?”</p><p>“I never got your name, omega.”</p><p>Stiles’s grin slipped into a scowl. “Stiles.”</p><p>“Stiles.”</p><p>“Stiles Stilinski.”</p><p>The man’s eyes sparked red and Stiles internally winced. “Stilinski. Of Beacon Hills?”</p><p>Silently, he nodded. Hale searched him up and down and if possible, his expression soured even more. Stiles didn’t know if he wanted to apologize or punch the man in the face.</p><p>“I expected your father.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, you got me! How lucky.”</p><p>Hale’s eyes narrowed and Stiles’s mouth went dry. But the man just turned away and Stiles stumbled backward, wedging himself between Erica and the dark-skinned beta from earlier. Erica smirked sideways at him before fixing her gaze forward and Stiles tried not to curl into himself, feeling a little sick.</p><p>Glancing down the line, he caught Scott’s quick gaze. The boy looked piteous. Swallowing hard, Stiles forced his gaze back forward to where Hale’s calculating gaze went over all of them, resting on Stiles again for only a moment. Stiles could’ve sworn his lip curled a little. </p><p>Stiles kind of hated him.</p><p>Because this man wasn’t his Alpha. The betas beside him weren’t his pack.</p><p>And they were never going to be.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stiles woke up to the blaring of trumpets. </p><p>He snapped up from his bedroll, bleary eyed and a little panicked. A glance around the tent showed that Jackson was still asleep, hissing like the snake he was. For a moment, Stiles glared at him, pretty sure he would’ve been better off being sent with a literal rock instead of Jackson.</p><p>But then the kanima blinked lazy eyes open and all but smirked at him. Stiles scowled, pushing himself up.</p><p>“Okay, the hell is that? Are we being attacked?”</p><p>“I hope not. Shame that would be.”</p><p>Stiles shot the kanima another dark look before rubbing a hand over his face and moving to the tent flap, untying it and peeking his head out. The sky was still fairly dark, the sun resting right on the horizon, and Stiles scowled at that.</p><p>He didn’t like early mornings. Harris had always tried to wake him up before the sun rose for lessons, claiming it was ‘good for the mind and soul’ but Stiles thought Harris could go jump into the nearest river.</p><p>He pulled himself back into his tent and wrapped himself back up in his blankets. Jackson was giving him an unimpressed look now and Stiles gave him an unimpressed look right back. “I’m still tired.”</p><p>“Sucks for you, Stilinski.”</p><p>“You’re not very motivational, you know that?”</p><p>He could’ve sworn the kanima smirked at him, dragging his uniform out of his bag and across the tent to where Stiles sat. The sound of the rest of the camp rising outside made Stiles realize that sadly, he couldn’t just go back to sleep, and he forced himself up slowly, changing with lots of grunts and groans.</p><p>Seconds after Jackson had curled up underneath his uniform armor, Stiles’s flap opened and Scott peeked in. He searched Stiles up and down before moving forward and tracing his fingers around the back of Stiles’s neck and underneath his chin.</p><p>Stiles squeaked and moved backward. “Dude, what the heck?”</p><p>“It’s scenting.”</p><p>“It’s an invasion of my personal bubble.”</p><p>Scott gave him a sort of wounded look and Stiles sighed, tilting his neck and letting the beta have at it. He didn’t know what the heck he smelled like, but he supposed it could be a lot worse than the floppy haired beta across from him.</p><p>Finally, Scott looked pleased enough and Stiles couldn’t hear much more commotion outside. Together, they rushed out and headed toward the center of camp where the other wolves were already waiting.</p><p>Alpha Hale stood in front of them.</p><p>“So he’s big and scary,” Stiles whispered, eyeing the man. “But he’s not like, that scary, is he? I mean come on, he’s got red eyes and angry eyebrows. I’ve seen worse.”</p><p>“Where?”</p><p>“Uh… somewhere. I’m sure.”</p><p>“Derek’s not that bad,” Scott whispered back. “Just grumpy.”</p><p>“Wait, his name is Derek?”</p><p>But Scott had suddenly stiffened, straightening his shoulders with his hands behind his back and Stiles blinked back forward. Only to nearly wet himself as he met Derek’s angry-brows. And the man looked a little murderous. Plastering the best smile onto his face that he could, Stiles straightened too.</p><p>“Good morning, sir! Alpha! Uh… Alpha sir.”</p><p>Derek’s scowl deepened. And Stiles winced a little as Jackson shifted around the back of his neck.</p><p>
  <em> “Sniff his butt. That's how werewolves say hello.” </em>
</p><p>Stiles blinked dumbly at nothing for a second, his mind spinning. Then he scowled. “I’m not sniffing his butt. That’s disgusting.”</p><p>“You’re not what, omega?”</p><p>
  <em> Oh, hell. </em>
</p><p>Scott was giving him a wide eyed look now and Stiles chuckled nervously, shaking his head. “Uh, nothing. Not doing anything! Except, uh, waiting for your lovely orders, sir. Er, Alpha sir. There’s no butt sniffing going on here. Ever. Never ever.”</p><p>Jackson hissed a quiet laugh. Stiles reminded himself to wring the snake's neck later.</p><p>“Step forward, omega.”</p><p>And no, nope, Stiles really didn’t want to step forward. But then Scott nudged him in the side and, swallowing hard, Stiles did so. He really hoped Derek wasn’t going to ask him to do any werewolf things because he still hadn’t figured out how he was going to pull that off yet.</p><p>Derek stopped him with a claw to the chest and Stiles could feel the eyes of the rest of the camp watching. His heart stuttered a little as he glanced down at it, knowing exactly how well it could end his life. </p><p>“When were you bitten, omega?”</p><p>Stiles had given him a name, he thought. The man could at least use it. “A week ago.”</p><p>“So you haven't experienced a full moon.”</p><p>“Uh, no?”</p><p>Derek frowned and Stiles winced. Was he supposed to call this asshole sir all the time or something? Alpha? Maybe if he just blundered through all of this, Derek would send him right back into the line of werewolves. But then Derek’s claws were cutting through the air and Stiles narrowly ducked them, his heart leaping into his throat.</p><p>He didn’t heal quickly. There was no way he could let them touch him.</p><p>Stiles managed to not get his throat sliced open, dodging the man’s claws and ducking around behind him. Jackson was hissing something in his ear but Stiles didn’t hear it as Derek turned around, stumbling backward, panic still crashing over him.</p><p>“Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I won't speak out of turn again!”</p><p>“Use your claws, omega.”</p><p>“Uh, maybe later? I’m not really feeling it right now.”</p><p>The man growled and moved toward him again. Stiles could hear laughter from those onlooking and narrowly caught Scott’s worried expression. Then he was ducking Derek’s claws again and this time, he caught Jackson’s words.</p><p>
  <em> “Fake a claw. A single claw, Stilinski.” </em>
</p><p>One claw. And— and Stiles could do that, right? He thought about that dark Druid who had changed her entire face and moved away from Derek, snarling at the man as anger rushed over him. Who the hell was this Alpha to pull him out in front of the others anyway? Stiles dodged around him as Derek slashed out and caught the man in the side, drawing blood.</p><p>The werewolves went quiet. Derek suddenly stopped, glancing down at the open cut across his arm, and then looked back up. </p><p>Stiles was pretty sure he was going to die. </p><p>Except Derek didn’t rip his throat out or threaten him with bodily harm. Instead, the man looked a little impressed and the cut on his arm healed up, leaving behind nothing but a trace of blood. He stepped forward and Stiles bared his neck as fingers ghosted over his shoulders. </p><p><em> Scenting, </em>some part of his brain supplied. He didn’t really acknowledge it as he stumbled back to Scott’s side and tried to ignore the confused look the beta was giving him.</p><p>“And controlling that,” Derek said, facing the rest of them. “Is something you need to learn before the first full moon in four weeks. Once you have control, the next round of newly-bitten werewolves come in and the rest of you will be sent off to your posts. With control. With the ability to fight.”</p><p>Stiles’s heartbeat stuttered in his chest. </p><p>“But for now,” Derek said, “these next few weeks are going to be full of rigorous training. I don’t take well to a lack of effort and I don’t accept whining. If something breaks, it’ll heal. If you lose control, you figure out how to get it back. I'll hold everyone here to the same standards.”</p><p>Stiles could’ve sworn the man’s eyes flicked to him for a second. And just like that, he was back to despising the Alpha again. </p><p>“Pair off,” Derek said, eyeing the other wolves again. “A partner you can find an anchor in. I want to see claws by the end of the day.”</p><p>Stiles swallowed hard and glanced at Scott, mouthing the words <em> ‘I’ll tell you later.’ </em></p><p>The beta was still wide-eyed.</p><p>-</p><p>Stiles could hear the distant sound of campfires crackling and voices echoing through the air, but he stayed in his tent. Scott sat across from him, brown eyes searching his face, and Stiles found it hard to meet them.</p><p>“It’s called a Spark,” Stiles said, turning his gaze down to his hands. “My mother had one, but she never really used it. Because Sparks become Emissaries and Emissaries becoming linked to an Alpha. Whether they want it or not.”</p><p>“You had claws.”</p><p>“Not exactly,” Stiles said. “It’s, uh, a manipulation, I guess. I don’t know for sure. Everything I know is from books or what my mother told me before she died.”</p><p>“Your eyes were golden.”</p><p>Stiles hadn’t meant to do that. “Usually it’s more orange?”</p><p>“You hurt Derek.”</p><p>“That was also kind of an accident.”</p><p>Scott was silent for a long moment, just looking at him. Stiles was still scared to meet the beta’s eyes, turning his hands over in his lap. He wanted to explain to Scott that he couldn’t take the bite; even though he didn’t want it. He wanted to explain that he didn't want to be dragged off and bonded to some random pack. He wanted to tell the boy that he’d come here for his father and if he was being honest, he was terrified.</p><p>“There’s a rumor,” Scott said. “That Kate and Gerard Argent aren’t only hunters. That Kate Argent is something else. That Gerard’s army of hunters are something more than human. There’s a rumor we’re not just going to be fighting hunters.”</p><p>Stiles looked at him in silent surprise. He couldn’t read past Scott’s careful expression.</p><p>“The Argents have come for the supernatural before. The Hales. Derek’s family and later, his older sister. Now they’re coming for all of us.”</p><p>Stiles knew that. But he wasn’t sure why Scott was telling him any of this.</p><p>“You’re not one of us,” Scott said quietly, searching his face. “But you’re not one of them either, right? This isn’t some kind of trick?”</p><p>And there it was, some part of Stiles’s head told him. He still blinked at the boy and then reached out, taking Scott’s hand. The beta didn’t move back but his golden eyes did flash gold as he tensed. Stiles guided his hand to the pulse point of his wrist and pressed two of Scott’s fingers there.</p><p>“You can both feel and hear my heartbeat,” Stiles said. “So you’ll know if I’m lying when I say I’m here for my father, Scott. I’m not to hurt anyone except those who try to hurt him. And if that’s an army of hunters, then it’s an army of hunters I’ll be fighting against.”</p><p>He could practically see the relief softening the boy’s face. Scott drew away after a moment and the puppy-dog look was back. “Good.”</p><p>“You trust me?”</p><p>“I think I trusted you right away,” Scott said. “There’s something about your scent. It’s strange and… right. Not like some of these other werewolves.”</p><p>Stiles wasn’t sure what that meant. But he just smiled.</p><p>“So,” Scott said, looking excited as he leaned forward. “What other things can you do?”</p><p>And Stiles thought this werewolf wasn’t so bad.</p><p>-</p><p>One week in and Stiles thought everything about this place was bad. No, scratch that. Everything about this place was terrible.</p><p>He was collapsed in the dirt, panting as the cut across his chest stung. It’d taken him one week to figure out he could heal himself slowly; not werewolf fast, but he was pretty sure Derek had just chalked that up to him being a terrible werewolf. But it was hard, dammit. And it took a lot of his energy.</p><p>Energy he didn’t have when he was playing werewolf.</p><p>They’d spent nearly the entire week sparring as the other werewolves attempted to gain control over their beta forms. Scott was surprisingly quick with it all, so at least Stiles knew he wasn’t holding the beta back. Because he wasn’t nearly as quick as him. And he couldn’t hold his own quite as well.</p><p>If he could just use his spark for more than a manipulation once in a while…</p><p>“Stiles,” Scott said, looking at him with worry. “Stiles, you need to heal and get up. We’re going to get in trouble!”</p><p>“I don’t care anymore,” Stiles said, groaning. “Leave me alone to die.”</p><p>“Come on, Stiles. Get up!”</p><p>“Can’t. I’m dead.”</p><p>Scott gave him a pained look and glanced over his shoulder. Suddenly, he was straightening and a shadow loomed over where Stiles laid. He glanced up after a long second, then hated all of his life choices as he met dark red eyes.</p><p>“Omega, what are you doing?”</p><p>“It’s Stiles, dude.”</p><p>Scott actually looked panicked. He’d claimed that Stiles had a death wish and maybe he did. Because Derek yanked him to his feet with a growl and Stiles winced, blood wetting through his uniform. Derek eyed it and if possible, his expression darkened even more.</p><p>“You’re not healing.”</p><p>“Uh, that’s what happens when I’m tired?”</p><p>The man’s eyes scanned his face for a second. And Stiles thought if Derek kept growling, he might actually turn into a wild animal. It was kind of funny because Stiles seemed to have this effect on the man more than any other of the werewolves.</p><p>Or maybe that wasn’t so funny.</p><p>Derek barked for the other betas to stop what they were doing, gesturing them over, and Stiles narrowly resisted the urge to groan. Because he couldn’t take another duel. Not now. Derek was going to rip his throat out and everyone was going to see what a fraud he was.</p><p>But the man didn’t try to maul him. Surprisingly. Instead, Derek led them a little ways from camp and Stiles blinked at the giant pole that had been lodged into the ground.</p><p>There was a line of black surrounding it. Mountain ash, Stiles remembered from his books.</p><p>Something werewolves couldn't get near.</p><p>“This,” Derek said, gesturing to the line, “is a test.” </p><p>Stiles raised an eyebrow. Not to him, it wasn’t. He thought if they’d just bring in one or two humans, maybe it wouldn’t be so scary for all the big bad werewolves.</p><p>“That,” Derek continued, pointing upward. “Is the second part of it. The easier part.”</p><p>Stiles gazed upward. There was something hanging from a nail at the very top, he noticed. Something metal that looked similarly like three different spirals. Derek turned to face them, arms crossed over his chest.</p><p>“Does anyone know what a Triskele means?”</p><p>Silence was his answer. Derek sighed heavily, looking truly pained.</p><p>“It can be many different things. For some, it’s past, present, and future. For others, it means life, death, and rebirth. In werewolf culture, it means—”</p><p>“Alpha, beta, omega,” a voice said, cutting the man off. Stiles glanced over to see the dark-skinned beta speaking. Boyd, he’d come to learn.</p><p>Derek looked impressed, nodding. “It shows us that anyone can rise in the different levels. An omega can become a beta. A beta can become an Alpha. And just the same, an Alpha can fall. A beta can become an omega.”</p><p>Stiles glanced back up at the triskle. It seemed to shine in the reflecting sunlight.</p><p>“McCall,” Derek said, startling Stiles out of his thoughts. Scott looked a little terrified and Derek nodded toward the mountain ash. “Go get it.”</p><p>Stiles clenched his jaw at that. Because he already knew there was no way that was happening.</p><p>But Scott just nodded and started forward. The rest of the group watched in silence and the moment Scott got near the mountain ash, it glowed bright and the boy yelped as he rammed right off it, falling on his butt as he stared in surprise.</p><p>Derek looked like he was smirking a little, nodding to the curly-haired beta next to them. Isaac.</p><p>“Go, Lahey.”</p><p>And so it went, down the rest of the line. Stiles’s skin started to itch as he realized sooner of later, Derek was going to call on him next. He eyed the line and knew he could cross over it as easy as if it wasn’t even there. Then again, he could easily fake it—</p><p>“Okay,” Derek said, snapping Stiles out of his thoughts. “That’s enough.”</p><p>The man’s eyes were on him as Stiles blinked. Slowly, the others moved away and Scott said his name, but Stiles just shook his head, brushing the beta off. He waited until everyone was gone and then approached the man, sinking a finger into his chest.</p><p>“What the hell?”</p><p>Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles scowled.</p><p>“What, I’m not good enough for your stupid little Triskele test?”</p><p>“I thought you’d humiliated yourself enough for one day,” Derek said, voice steady. Stiles’s throat tightened and anger crashed over him. For a second, he was sorely tempted to step right across the line and shove Derek’s own share of humiliation right up his ass.</p><p>But he was smarter than that. He knew better.</p><p>Didn’t he?</p><p>“What the hell do you think of me, Derek?”</p><p>The man’s eyes sparked at that and Stiles quickly realized his mistake. He dropped his gaze in submission to the ground, baring his neck a little, but Derek’s hands were fists at his side.</p><p>“You want to know what I think of you, <em> Stiles? </em>I think that you’ll never make a proper werewolf. I think you should have stayed human. Your father should have been here in your place and the moment you step out onto the battlefield, you’re going to get yourself killed.”</p><p>One second ago, Stiles had been angry. But Derek’s words hit him like a blow and he focused harder on the ground, throat tightening.</p><p>“I think you have one more week to prove yourself,” Derek said quietly. It was almost like he cared. Stiles could fool himself into believing he did, maybe. If he didn’t look up at the man's blood-red eyes. “Or you’re going home and your father will take your place.”</p><p>“My father won’t survive the bite.”</p><p>Stiles raised his eyes again, finally meeting Derek’s gaze once more. And for a moment the man looked a little surprised. But then he glanced at something over Stiles’s shoulder and his features schooled into a blank lac of emotion again as he looked back.</p><p>“Then I suggest you get your act together, omega.”</p><p>The Alpha brushed past Stiles without another word and Stiles stared at nothing for a moment. Then he turned, watching Derek move away. He was met by another wolf; an older one with a sharp smirk. The one he’d been looking at.</p><p>Stiles watched them leave with a pit forming in his stomach. And the other werewolf met his gaze for just a moment, blue eyes flashing as his smirk widened. A shiver crept up Stiles’s spine.</p><p>Then he turned away to gaze at the pole jutting into the sky and the gleaming Triskele that hung from it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I tried not to write this, I really did. I had no idea HOW to write this, but then my lovely discord friends gave me ideas out the wazoo and now I'm trying to put something together. Because Mulan au! Why not!</p><p>Of course, I'd love to hear what you all thought!</p><p>Come hang with me on Tumblr?</p><p> <a href="https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/">the dumpster</a></p><p>Or on my favorite Sterek discord!</p><p>  <a href="https://discord.gg/78RjqwY">not a dumpster</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>